the tale with a stone ends

One day the young man returned home and Hidda asked, "Where did you get that stone in the chimney?  It's miraculous.  The soot never covers it."

It was true.  The stone with the colored stripe was as bright and clean as the day he had cemented it in place.  The young man had forgotten about the stone and the voice and being reminded of them made him uneasy.  "Oh yes, it's special.  From the Sea of Ice, I was told."  Then he kissed his wife, bending her back until she squealed and told him laughing that he shouldn't tease mothers-to-be; her belly was already round after less than a year in the woods.

The time passed; the family grew; the bag wilted.  The young man was sure he could gather materials to put a new room on his house for when even more children came, but they were still comfortable as it was with only one little one.  It wasn't a pressing problem.  More pressing was the situation of their food.  The young man spent more time gathering fallen branches than wild fruits and Hidda was not able to walk very far by herself with the child on her back.  That child was sucking her dry, and not getting much good from it herself.  Their daughter had gained little weight in the months since her birth and her color remained pale.  Her voice was whimpery and reedy, not bothersome, but worrying.  Hidda was growing thin herself, worn out by constant care, refusing to sleep until her daughter swallowed a little more milk, and then a little more...  The young man was beside himself.  Aunt Demeter had not deigned to visit herself, but had sent her personal pharmacist to try her hand, but with no changes.  Winter has on the horizon.  A weak baby had little chance and a dead baby might kill its mother with grief.  The young man felt his soul chill more every day.

One night, one early frosty night, the young man was sitting in front of the low fire while Hidda and the baby slept, exhausted from hours of struggling to fill the tiny stomach.  His brow was knotted, his hands clasped, his cheeks prickly from lack of time for shaving.

"Maybe you are ready for advice now, boy," hissed a familiar voice with unfamiliar menace.

"I thought you said you didn't care whether I took your advice or not?  Why this offense?"

"Well, damn my soft heart, I have taken a liking to you.  So clever, so quick.  It pains me to see you suffer."  The young man turned to see the black wolf shadow on the door, eyes and teeth glowing in an infinite darkness.

"What would you have me do?"

"What do you desire?"

"It's obvious!  My child must be cured!  My family must stay together!"

The glowing white of the teeth lengthened and the burning yellow of the eye narrowed and the voice slithered out of the black, oozing slimy compassion.  "The wood is hardly a place for an ill babe.  Go to Auntie Demeter.  Once you have settled in, calm yourself in the eastern fields.  Gold and silver will guide you."

"I don't know if Auntie will take us in," mumbled the young man, near tears of frustration.

"Just tell her Uncle sends his regards.  Oh, and show her this-" and something heavy and vaguely white fell from the ceiling and hit the floor with a clunk.  The young man picked it up and discovered it was a tooth, long, smooth, and pointed.  He couldn't tell what animal it had come from; it was much too large for any beast he knew.  He slipped it into his pocket and returned to brooding before the fire.

In the morning he went off to see Aunt Demeter, determined to pull her blessing for their stay in her house from her.  He waited in the dark front hall for many anxious minutes while the servant girl occasionally scurried past.  Finally, he was led to the lady's writing room, where she was sitting at her enormous desk, wrapped in a heavy, dull red shawl.  She sat like a block of ice while he made his case and when she made no move to answer him, the young man said, "And Uncle sends his regards," dropping the tooth with a dark sounding whump on the pile of papers in the center of the desk.  He saw Aunt Demeter's eyes widen, although she didn't change her expression otherwise.

A few seconds of silence followed, but in the end she said, "Well, I can hardly turn my dear step-neice away with winter so close.  I'll send the carriage to collect her and the child this afternoon.  If you have things to prepare for bringing with you, set to them."

The young man left the house with a lighter heart than he had had in many days.

Sure enough, the carriage came and carted off the young family and their few belongings, taking them from their little house to Aunt Demeter's mansion.  The mother and child were placed in a snug room with an overlarge, well-pillowed bed.  Seeing his wife and daughter tucked into it, looking like a child and her doll, left the young man with a terrible ache in his throat.  He took to the streets to escape it.

He went to the eastern fields the next day quite by coincidence, as worry had buried the voice's advice.  He only remembered when he saw the pigeon perched on a dry, golden stalk.  It was what many in the area called a moon-bird; chicks were dark, gradually turning silver-gray as maturity took them, and going black again in their old age.  This one was in its prime, practically glowing in the thin sunlight, a small crest of feathers standing proudly on its head and neck.  Its orange eye stared coldly at the young man as he came closer, and as he came abreast its regal wings opened and took the bird effortlessly across the path and a few feet ahead.  This happened several times, with the silvery creature always peering over its shoulder to watch the young man come up behind it before swooping on.  Then, in the middle of a swoop it suddenly rose up and sailed over the field, high enough over the remaining crops that the young man could keep sight of it from the path, and finally dived down into the stalks.  The young man hesitated.  There might be a nest hidden in the field, and although one moon-bird was not particularly dangerous or aggressive, there were usually others in the flock nearby and a crowd of moon-birds had the reputation for being fearless and territorial.  He waited, listening for their coos and flapping wings, but heard nothing besides the brittle rustle of the plants, sucked dry by the fall.  After a few attentive minutes he walked into the field.  The tall grasses came up to just over his head and he hoped he was walking straight to where the bird had disappeared from view.  Indeed, soon he heard it warbling softly.  He parted the stalks with care, but even so the bird exploded from its perch on thunderous wings and sped upwards to join its namesake, just beginning to glow in the purpling sky.  The startled young man froze in place until he was sure no other birds were nearby.  Cautiously he pushed forward and found a small open space on the ground where a low vine was tangled up.  Its color was dark green and its stem was thick and rubbery looking, and it was covered in tiny, pink, cup-shaped flowers.  The few leaves it had were round and leathery.  "Gold and silver led me," muttered the young man, but he was at a loss as to what part of the plant would be useful.  In the end he pulled the whole thing out of the ground and hurried back into town under the first chilly stars of the night.

The plant was kept in the kitchen overnight and the next day the pharmacist was fetched to the house.  She was amazed to see the plant and skeptical of the young man's story of coming across it by chance in the fields.  "This vine has never been seen north of Big Trout Creek," she marveled, "Even plants that have been brought here have never grown half so well as this.  They certainly don't grow on their own in the fields."  By coincidence, the pharmacist had just been reading some old treatises that spoke of the powers of this vine, and after sharing her knowledge of botanical geography, she chopped and mashed the stem and boiled the mush in water with mint.  Strained, the bluish water was given to Hidda.  "She will pass it to the child from her breast," assured the pharmacist.  Hidda took a small cup of the brew in the morning and before bed for several days before its effects began to make themselves known.  First, her appetite increased enormously and color returned to her cheeks, then she began to leave the bed and bustle about the house like she did when she was a servant.  The baby's recovery came two days after the mother's, but come it did.  And the whole household rejoiced; even Aunt Demeter smiled when the baby made a mighty fuss at the dinner table, demonstrating her new-found energy.  The young man was bursting with joy and relief, but Aunt Demeter caught his shoulder that night as they left the dining room with a ring encrusted hand and growled, "You had best take care now, boy.  The wolf helps no one if he isn't sure of receiving in return."  The young man was troubled by her words, although he tried to remind himself of the voice's assurances that its aid was merely by uninterested suggestion, not bargaining or trade for favors.

Once assured that his young family was sleeping in peace, he returned to the cold street to clear his head of worry.  The darkness was a comfortable cloak, and soon he was moving easily without any tension in his body.  The crisp air roused him and he took deep, invigorating breaths.  Most of the townsfolk had already shut their doors to the night and breeze, preferring their hearths and evening broths, so the streets were quiet and wide to his steps.  Perhaps an hour passed, and the young man was ready to join his wife for the night, peaceful and carefree in dreams.  When he rounded the corner of the street where Aunt Demeter's house stood waiting, he was startled to hear voices piercing the silence.

"It's a bad business, I tell you.  The boy would never have stolen those stones.  I would stand for him, for I know him well."

"Yes, it does seem an odd affair.  I understand Steffen blaming him, as he is the only one who knew where they were hidden, it seems.  But the boy is a dullard.  I doubt he could have hidden his crime, even as he was in the middle of it."

"What if he took them only to look upon in his lonely nights?  Was his room well searched?"

"Yes, and nothing found.  That's why the constable decided he must have sold them, although there was no money, nor new goods about either.  Poor Steffen.  He thought he was doing the boy a favor by taking him on for some honest labor, and it brought nothing but the noose in the end."

"I've said it before, Erico, the constable is an ass.  There was no evidence of any wrong-doing, which is as good as evidence of right-doing, as any honest town dweller will tell you.  He had the boy executed out of spite."

"I cannot argue with you.  They say too, though, that he had something to do with the disappearance of one of Armengol's goats some time back.  But that was probably a bit of mischief by some neighbor children.  You know they like to tease the poor animals."

The young man was frozen in place listening to them.  He had taken the miller's stones!  He had killed the goat!  And only now was a culprit sought?  But what could he do?  They were all gone now, and the poor, dull boy had already been hanged.  It made no sense to say anything now, he told himself.  The other men had moved on, chatting gravely about the character of the sacrificed boy, and the young man hurried to Aunt Demeter's door, anxious to lay his head to pillow.

The house had gone dark in his absence and cold as well.  With no light at hand, the young man stumbled through the rooms and halls and tried not to trip up the stairs.  Once in the chamber where his wife was sleeping with their child, he let himself relax, but a rustling sound behind him made his blood turn to ice and freeze his soul.  He turned slowly, hoping to see some thief of a cat stealing about the corners of the room and disturbing the heavy curtains, but no.  It was an indistinct lump behind a tapestry that moved and crinkled the dirty old threads together.  The lump moved to the left, towards the edge of the tapestry, and in the most casual way the source of the shape became visible.  First came the pointed snout with shining teeth, the fiery eyes and sharp ended ears, then the heavy black claws clicking on the wooden floor, then the whole, heavy body and tail, raised and waving whimsically, as if in a wind felt by itself alone.  The great gray wolf stood before him, large as a horse and happy as a gambler with a winning hand.

"So good to be here at last, my boy," came the rich, growling voice from across the room, "Now we can have some real fun."

"I don't want to have fun with you, I want to see my baby healthy." The young man was amazed at his own brazenness in the face of the unnaturally sized beast.  The wolf chuckled and oozed further into the room, moonlight bouncing off his hide like useless arrows.

"But you can see she is well on her way, and I'm sure I can convince you to continue our relationship," he purred in a burbly, syrupy voice.  His body moved effortlessly to the side of the bed, and his lantern eyes centered on the sleeping baby, a sly smile splitting his pointed snout from end to end.  The young man could almost see drool collecting behind those smooth, white spikes of teeth, ready to slide between them and over the thin lips to drip to the floor in all its slimy glory.  He launched himself towards the monstrous creature and before he knew it, he found himself pinned against the tapestry and the wolf laughing in his face.

"It's time to stop this, Vulk," yelled Aunt Demeter from the doorway.  She was holding the tooth in one hand and a hammer in the other, and although she was in her nightdress, didn't appear to have been awakened by the noises in the bedroom.

"You know what it means if you do what you're thinking," scoffed the wolf, "You haven't the nerve to pay that price."

"Haven't I?" and Aunt Demeter set the tooth to the wall and smashed it with the hammer.   They heard a surprised and angry yelp as the wolf vanished in a puff of sour smelling smoke.

The whole room immediately felt lighter, and Hidda shot up from the bed as the baby let out a hearty wail.  "What happened?" she exclaimed.

Aunt Demeter was leaning against the door-frame, looking weak and tired, but still proud.  "I should have known he wouldn't forget about us, even after so long without sticking his nose into our business.  Tomorrow we shall talk of preparations to be made.  We won't be able to stay here much longer.  You rest as well as you can."  Aunt Demeter turned and left, closing the door behind her, while her step-neice comforted her baby and stared at her husband, the couple realizing together what the woman had meant and what it would mean for the future.